Second Chances
by Cheryl W
Summary: When Richie is forced to work off his debt at MacLeod's shop, he learns the most invaluable things you can't steal, they have to be given to you. No slash.


Second Chances

Author: Cheryl W.

Author's Note: This is in tribute to Stan Kirsch who was my favorite Highlander actor. I wish he had understood the light he brought to the world, to my world and to others. Long after his role was over, I was still inspired by his character, penned stories for him and Duncan because I wanted to keep reliving that touching father and son connection that jumped off my television screen. My condolences to Stan's family and friends on their loss and hope this story conveys the respect and love so many of us fans had for Stan and his incredible talent.

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As Duncan MacLeod stood in the doorway of his spare bedroom, he was struck with an overwhelming feeling of tenderness toward his sleeping houseguest. From his vantage point he could study the boy's pale, bruised face and it seemed inconceivable that the lad had lived seventeen years. Of course in comparison to MacLeod's own 400 years, seventeen was like counting a life by months as they did for infants.

It came to him again, that scene that kept him awake even as he had sought refuge at the cabin from torment from his choice to leave Tessa. Vividly he could see the fear in the lad's eyes as he stood over him, his katana at the ready as he swore, "I'm Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod and you're dead….It's over when I cut off your head." Now, Duncan shuffled his feet in shame, 'how could I have said that to him!? Even if he had been a full immortal, there's no excuse for making such a threat, not when maybe the fight could be avoided. Have I been out of the game so long that murder's more to my taste then peace, just to keep this life I've adopted?' Then he thought of the possible outcome of that night, that he would have taken the lad's head leaving him feeling physical ill.

Looking at the sleeping boy, remembering the twinkle in his eye as he sallied him at the police station and his wonderful laugh tonight at supper, he couldn't fathom anyone ever being heartless enough to hurt the boy. '_But someone has_,' a grimness entering his eyes as he again sighted on the dark bruise on the boy's jaw and the cut on his lip and he still vividly recalled the shadows in the boy's blue eyes and the boy's flinch when he raised his hand to touch the boy's face this morning. And somehow the boy's words at the police station still stuck with him, "Sides, who'd I tell?" Those were the words that haunted Duncan, the tone hadn't held so much bravado as sadness telling him that the boy was traveling this world alone and that feeling Duncan MacLeod knew only too intimately.

Maybe that was the reason he had cooked up this repayment scheme. If he forced the boy to work off his debt of the window repair maybe he could ease some of the boy's loneliness. To his surprise, Tessa had readily agreed to the scheme. In truth, he shouldn't have been surprised, her compassion was one of the things he loved about her. Besides it was her defense of the young thief that had held back Duncan's sword that first night. Thank God.

Duncan's jaw clenched as he remembered the state of the kid this morning as he reported for 'community service' as the boy labeled his working for Duncan. It was strange and pathetic how nervous Duncan had been for the boy's arrival and then when the doorbell rang, he started, which earned laughter from Tessa.

"Just be yourself, Duncan," she tenderly advised.

"The sword wielding self or the "I'll letting you out of jail only if you promise to keep your mouth shut about sword and beheadings" self."

"No, be the one who offered him this job, who's laid awake regretting his first meeting with the boy."

Surprised, "How…"

Kissing him on the lips, Tessa smiled, "I know you, Duncan MacLeod, that's how. Now go let in Richie before he takes off."

With a reassured smile on his lips, Duncan had crossed to the door and kept the smile on his lips as he swung open the door. But the smile vanished at the sight of the rain drenched boy at his door, a vivid bruise on his jaw and a cut on his lips. "By all that's holy, what happened to you?" he exclaimed in shocked concern, latching onto the boy's arm and pulling him into the safety of the loft before the boy had a chance to even react. Raising his hand to touch the boy's bruised jaw, the boy flinched back from his touch, a fear and a threat in his eyes.

"Ah not gonna hurt you," Duncan promised.

Disbelief haunted the boy's blue gaze. "I'm fine," he gruffly retorted, stepping back and slipping his arm from Duncan's hold. "So where do you want me to start?"

A protest was on Duncan's lips but at the last second he amended, "With breakfast," he firmly said.

A look of bitter acceptance flashed in the boy's features before he stonily confessed, "I'm not the best cook but .."

"No, I meant I'll make you some breakfast," Duncan gently cut in, silently cursing himself for confusing the boy into thinking he was to be some kind of servant.

The boy's mouth hung open a moment before he shut it, swallowed and forced out, "I already ate."

'_Which day this month was that_?' Duncan silently retorted, beginning to realize the boy's barriers weren't going to be ease to breach. "Come on, I'm a pretty good cook," he said offhandedly as he began walking toward the kitchen. He sensed the boy's hesitation and feared the lad would bolt for the door instead of following him. "Consider eating my cooking as part of your community service," he threw over his shoulder, hoping the joke would ease off the tension.

A snort sounded behind him and a "sure" was heard before he sensed footfalls behind him. "Have a seat at the table," he offered as he crossed to the refrigerator. "So what's your request today? Eggs, pancakes, French toast? And we have bacon or sausage to go with it," he rattled off, his head in the refrigerator. Hearing no response, he turned around and felt a pang in his heart at the lost look on the boy's face as he stood uncomfortably by the table. Kindness didn't seem to be something the boy had much experience with.

"Look I can probably get the money I owe you by the end of next week," the teenager announced, looking like a trapped wild animal.

Straightening up, Duncan closed the refrigerator door but did not approach the young thief, worried that any motion he would make would send the boy dashing for the door. "This isn't just about the money for the window," Duncan confessed but his words only set the teenager more on edge.

"Then what is it about?" Richie demanded, standing straighter, primed to tear for the door if things turned nasty as they tended to do for him.

"This is about second chances, for you and for me," Duncan gently said, watching the fear increase in the boy's eyes.

'_Second chances_,' Richie hated that term and sure as hell wasn't getting tricked by that fairy tale again. "Forget it!" digging in his pocket he pulled out all the cash he owned in the world, slammed all $4.82 on the table and promised, "I'll get the rest of the money to you next week." Then he turned on his heel and stalked for the door.

Duncan stood in stunned silence, angry with himself for whatever he had said to cause the boy to react so harshly. '_Go after him, MacLeod_!' he rebuked himself even as he wracked his brain for the right words to say. "Richie, wait!" he called, taking up pursuit but it was Tessa who halted the boy's headlong pace.

"Oh mon chiere, you're soaked to the bone," she said as she stepped from the hallway. Whether it was her words or the tenderness in her tone that caused the boy to stumble to a halt, Duncan didn't know but felt even greater love for Tessa than he normally did at the miracle she was performing. Tessa crossed to the boy, Duncan watched in amazement as the woman he loved turned into a nurturing mother.

"You're hurt?!" she exclaimed and before the lad could give his reply of bravado, Tessa gripped his arm. "Come, we need to get some peroxide on that and some ice on that bruise and you into some dry clothing." Turning her look to Duncan, she ordered, "Duncan get some ice and bring me some of your clothing that would fit Richie. We'll be in the spare room," and then she was ushering the suddenly meek teenage into their spare bedroom.

A slow smile turned up Duncan's lips. Now that he knew Tessa was his secret weapon, he knew he could break down the boy's barriers and before he knew it, he and the boy would be running together. The thought caught the Scotsman by surprise, _'Don't get so attached ye old fool. The boy's surely gonna do his 'time' to pay off his debt and then you'll never lay eyes on him again_.' The thought inexplicable saddened him as he wrapped one of their ice packs in a dish towel.

Having made a brief stop over in his room, Duncan entered the spare room baring the ice pack and one of his sweaters and his sweatpants. He almost let a smile slip onto his face at the scene that greeted him of the boy sitting on the end of the bed as Tessa dabbed a peroxide soaked washcloth against the cut on his lip. To the boy's credit, he didn't flinch under her ministrations or the pain the peroxide surely was delivering to him. '_Apparently he's no stranger to pain_,' Duncan concluded, the realization stirring anger within him.

Tessa turned to him as he entered the room. "Duncan, do you think he needs stitches?"she asked in concern, stepping aside so Duncan could approach the lad.

"It's fine," the boy refuted, his eyes meeting Duncan's with uncertainty as the man leaned close, his hand gently coming to rest on the unbruised side of his jaw and his eyes intently fixed on the cut that encompassed his top and bottom lip.

"I think it'll close up fine on it's own but we'll keep an eye on it for the next day or two," Duncan diagnosed, purposely tying the boy to him for the next few days. By the surprised look in the boy's eyes, he had caught the other man's implications. Pulling back, he gently slid his hand from the boy's jaw and held out the clothing. "Here, they may be big on you but they are dry at least."

"My clothing will dry," Richie replied shortly.

"Yes, in the dryer, now we'll give you some privacy to change," Tessa said, taking the clothing from Duncan and placing them on the bed beside the teenager and almost shoving Duncan out of the room before she shut the door.

Duncan stood dumbly at the closed door, the ice pack still in his hand, shocked that Tessa had just kicked him out of their spare room and taken over his scheme to befriend the boy. Turning to the woman he loved he whined, "Tessa, you dinna give me a chance to give 'em the ice pack."

"Oh, come on. You can give it to him once he's changed, now lets have a spot of tea," she cooed, putting her arm through Duncan's and pulling him to the kitchen.

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"I've never seen you like this before," Tessa teased as she watched Duncan in the small kitchen space.

"Like what?" Duncan distracted said, shooting his thousandth look to the closed door of the spare room.

"Like an expectant father," Tessa smirked, her words earning Duncan's stunned attention.

"I..he…what's that mean?" he stammered.

Reaching out, she snagged his hand and held it in hers. "It means you're acting like a worried, protective father."

"I am?!"

"Yes, and I think it's most charming on you?"

"Charming? Really?" leaned in for a kiss as the spare room door opened to reveal Richie nearly overpowered by Duncan's too large sweater and sweatpants rolled up by the ankles, screaming of the boy's vulnerability more than the lad's eyes would ever betray.

"Ah, better, right?" Tessa called to the boy.

"Yeah…ah…thanks," he said the last to Duncan, his pale face turning pink in embarrassment at his earlier reaction to the other man.

"Sure." Duncan smiled. "Now how about you take a seat, put this ice pack on that bruise and tell me what you want for breakfast?" he gently suggested, pulling out a chair from the table.

Shooting a look from Duncan to Tessa, the boy slowly approached the table and settled in the chair Duncan offered. Promptly picking up the ice pack from the table, he gingerly put it against his bruised jaw. Sensing that the two people were staring at him expectantly he softly said, "An egg would be great."

"Overeasy, sunny side up or scrambled?" Duncan asked.

"Ah..scrambled's fine," he chose, shooting a quick assessing look up to Duncan.

Duncan offered him a smile. "You're order will be up soon, sir," he sallied as he headed again for the refrigerator.

Warily Richie watched as Tessa claimed a chair beside him. "So, do you live around here, Richie?" she thought to begin with the easy topics but by the look in the boy's eyes, she had chosen the wrong topic.

"Yeah," he noncommittally replied, silently he sallied, '_Generally speaking, I mean I live in Seacover…just not this high rent side of Seacover.'_

'_Specific questions, that's the way to go with this kid_,' Duncan advised himself, knowing just how vague Richie's reply had been to Tessa.

"I'm from France," Tessa supplied, hoping her own admission would ease the boy's tension.

"Yeah, I didn't think you were from around here," Richie replied. Then, feeling like he had just insulted her, he stammered, "I don't mean that as a bad thing I just knew …you're accent and all…"

Tessa laughed. "It's alright, Richie. I know my accent's still too strong but I'm working on it."

"No, it's beautiful and all …" Shame flushed his cheeks.

"Thank you, you're language is so full of …what do you call them?"

"Clichés, smart aleck replies, sarcasm, slang.." he supplied, a smirk pulling onto his lips that lightened his drawn features.

"Yes, all of those. It makes your language unique."

"And bloody hard to learn and understand," Duncan mock grumbled.

"Yeah, just the way we like it. Unpredictable, that's us," Richie proudly quirked.

'_Kinda like you_,' Duncan surmised, trying hard to keep the smile off his face as the boy's true self slowly crept into the light.

"I've tried to translate some of your saying into French for my family but it sounds ludicrous. My family just laughs at me. Like what you said "Just chill man," it doesn't translate well."

Richie burst into laughter at hearing his words coming out with a French accent, causing both Tessa and Duncan to stare at him with surprise and joy. The boy's laugh was something like a rainbow after a tornado filled thunderstorm. "What's it translate to? 'Go get cold man? Jump into a frozen river dude?'"

"My father said it sounded like I was telling him to climb into the freezer," Tessa chuckled back.

This earned another round of laughter from the boy. "Oh, nice thing to say to your pop. Good thing you told him that by phone."

Tessa giggled and Duncan liked the sound. "Yes, I suppose it was. It is also a good thing I don't count on getting an allowance from him anymore."

"You know it," Richie agreed, using some of his well versed American language.

Duncan appeared at Richie's side. "Here we go, eggs scrambled and I threw in some bacon and sausage if you want them," he said as he set the full plate of food before the boy.

The boy's eyes shot from the plate to Duncan's in surprise and alarm. He had come to realize every kindness had its price.

Hazarding a guess at the boy's thoughts, Duncan restated, "Like I said, consider eating here part of your punishment."

It took a moment before the boy accepted the gesture. "Thanks. For the food..for letting me borrow your clothing.." and he turned his look to Tessa, "and for …well …the peroxide and all."

"It's quite alright. Now eat up before its cold because no matter what Duncan says…he's a marvelous cook," she complimented, shooting a tender look to Duncan.

"Oh, don't, you're making me blush," Duncan prissily joked back, claiming the chair across the table from Richie.

Unused to such easy banter, Richie watched the couple before him with interest.

Tessa focused on Duncan. "I think it's time you told Richie about what happened on the bridge."

Richie swallowed the food in his mouth hastily. "Hey, you don't owe me any explanation. Pretend I wasn't there…that's what I'm gonna do. I won't say a word to nobody about nothing. That you can count on."

"I do trust you, Richie," Duncan stated, intentionally choosing the word trust to convene the level he wanted to reach with the boy.

"You do? Why?!" Richie questioned, his food forgotten.

Duncan shrugged his shoulders. "When you've lived as long as I have, you come to be a good judge of who you can trust and who you can't."

"And you trust me? The kid that robbed you? You better get your spidey senses recalibrated," Richie retorted.

"I don't know what spidey senses are but my instincts about people are pretty sharp…even about people I meet in strange situations."

"Make a lot of friends with thieves do you?"

"I'd say a fair amount," Duncan answered with a smile, his mind going to Amanda.

"You are not making any sense. You're a great cook, but still, I think you're a little off, man," Richie said, relaxing enough to continue eating. With a piece of bacon in his hand, he pointed it at MacLeod. "Alright, since we got this trust thing between us. Tell me a few things. I get that the guy missing a head was asking for a bruising but what about that whole Aerosmith concert gone wrong light show? And after you explain that one, tell me how you and Sir Lancelot survived your death defying feats?"

"Sir Lancelot?" Tessa asked, looking questioningly to Duncan.

"He means Connor." Turning to Richie he took a deep breath. "This doesn't go any further than the three of us."

"Like I said in jail, who'd I tell."

"What you witnessed after I took Stan's head was called the Quickening, it's a transference of all his power to me." Duncan waited for the kid's reaction with something akin to anticipation.

Richie didn't disappoint, repeated back Duncan's explanation like the Scot was off his rocker. "Un huh. A quickening? You get all his "power"." He put in air quotes with his hands.

"Yes." Duncan smiled was going to enjoy making the kid work for the answers.

But instead of calling him nine types of crazy, Richie studied him a moment before he stated like it made sense to him, this crazy story this virtual stranger was laying on him. "And now you're as strong as he was."

"It's kinda a mixed bag of his strengths," Duncan explained, even as he didn't know why it was so important to him that Richie get the whole picture.

"And he had more going for him than being tall and mean as hell?" Richie snorted.

Duncan smiled. "Not much but he was a formidable fighter."

"He cheated!" Richie growled in outrage.

Duncan only smiled wider any Richie outburst."Any chance he got. Still, he had some decent skill with the blade."

Richie chewed on his bacon a moment, missed Duncan's worried look to Tessa and Tessa reaching out and squeezing Duncan's hand in a 'things are going to be ok,' gesture. Stuffing a sausage link in his mouth, Richie practically swallowed it whole before he spoke again. "Alright, so if I buy this whole, power transference thing, does this work for every head you lop off?" Wondered what MacLeod had thought he'd get by hacking off his head when they first met, he had limit skill sets that anyone would even bother wanting to inherit.

"No, just people like Stan, Connor and me."

"And what kind of "People" would that be?" Because this had taken a different turn, was maybe going to be some sense to all this Lancelot, sword play, power transfer thing.

"Immortals," Duncan said without fanfare.

"Immortals?" Richie laughed, nearly choked on the swig of orange juice in his mouth. "OK, now you've crossed the line. I'm game for a far out story but immortal like Ares, God of war. Back up your horses, dude. I'm not buying this one."

Not deterred by the youth's rejection of his truth, Duncan continued his explanation, "It's the reason Connor and I came back to life after our 'death defying feats.' We can't die..'less someone takes our head."

Wide eyed, Richie surmised, "And therefore gets the light show and your power. That's why that dude with the Jason mask dropped in on you."

Relief surged through Duncan at Richie's surprising turnabout of acceptance. "Yes. Some immortals try to gather as much power as they can."

"Alpha dog, that I understand." Again Richie chewed his food awhile. "And so when you found me in your store, holding a sword..."

Duncan paled in shame at their first meeting, stammered, "I thought….you had the sword….I thought you were there to challenge me."

Richie snorted at the mental picture that conjured up. "Challenge is a strong word for the pathetic battle I would have waged."

"I didn't mean to scare you," Duncan apologized, wished he could take it back, threatening the lad, his sword at the ready.

Richie bluntly corrected him, eyes searing into Duncan's. "No, you meant to kill me."

"Not you, well, yes you, but only if you were immortal," Duncan stumbled around the denial, could see Tessa fighting back a smirk at his akwardness around the teenager.

Richie took that in stride. "I guess I should be thanking God that I'm not one of your kind then."

With a hidden grimace, Duncan smiled, "That would have been a most unfortunate coincidence for you."

"More unfortunate than finding myself in the middle of some immortal race's gladiator game?" Richie challenged.

"You're the one who bought the ring side seats to the show," Duncan gently pointed out.

"Yeah, that was me. Always leaping before I look," Richie nearly sighed in self-castigation. "So you guys just take a licking but keep on ticking as long as you got your head."

"Yes, our wounds heal and if we sustain injuries severe enough, we die and then come back to life."

"You know this could seriously creep me out!? So are you immortal too?" he asked of Tessa.

Tessa smiled. "No, I'm mortal like you."

"And this doesn't creep you out?" a hint of incredulously in his tone.

'If you're asking if it unnerved me when Duncan first told me what he was, then yes, I was scared and uncomfortable and confused but I also knew Duncan well enough to know that none of that changed the man I knew, the man I had come to love. He is what he appears to be…only much more."

"Much much more." Richie eyed Duncan. "So I'm guessing you stop aging at a point, unless you turn into an immortal skeleton."

"I was mortal was I was born but when I was killed, I became immortal and I haven't aged a day since."

Richie's eyes widened at that news. "Killed?! You mean you're dead…but not dead. The undead?"

"Guess so," Duncan conceded with a shrug and a smirk.

"And how did you die?" Richie asked slowly, wondering if he was crossing a line.

"In battle," Duncan was purposeful vague, honestly was enjoying unwrapping all the details for the boy.

"Which one, Koren, Vietnam, not the Gulf, right?"

Impressed the kid even knew recent wartime goings ons, he supplied,"It was a clan battle."

"Clan? Now you lost me," Richie admitted, even as he sensed it was Duncan's intention to confusion him.

"I'm from Scotland, and our families lived together in a community and we called ourselves a clan."

"Alright, so you were in Scotland and your family took a strong dislike to another family and had it out."

"We battled," Duncan corrected.

"We talking about close quarters battle of knives, bats and chains or we talking guns and grenades." Because Richie understood gang turf wars.

"We're talking swords."

"Swords?!" Richie whistled at that. "So your whole clan was immortal?"

"No, just me. We fought with swords because that's the only worthy weapon we crafted back in 1592."

Richie's eyes got huge. "1592?! Like the year 1592?"

"Yes. I'm over 400 years old," Duncan had some sick pleasure in the retelling of the tale as he took in the lad's expression of utter shock.

Putting down his silverware and dismissing his food, Richie turned in his chair to face Duncan. "Let me get this straight: over 400 years ago you and your family's enemy had it out with swords, you bought the big one but came back to life and you've been alive every since, lopping off heads of other immortals if the need arose."

"Pretty much sums up my life, except I woulda made it sound more honorable and lively," Duncan joked, hoping to lighten the tense mood around the table.  
Shocked, Richie stammered, "If the world found out about you…about immortals…you'd be an endangered species you know that right?"

Surprised that was the thing the kid came away with, Duncan sallied back, "It's the reason I'm not on the Jerry Springer show."

"Telling me…that's really warped you know that right?" and there was anger in Richie's tone that Duncan didn't understand.

"Like I said, I trust you."

"Trust me?! You don't know me!" Richie growled, couldn't believe the guy was this…this naïve. Had lived so long being so naïve.

Duncan ignored his own breakfast to hold Richie's gaze. "I know you didn't go to the police after witnessing me kill a man."

"Maybe I was too scared to go."

But Duncan snorted, confronted that lie, "You weren't too scared to hang around and watch me pull Connor from the river."

Richie sighed. "I've always been too curious for my own good." For a moment of silence he studied Duncan. "So how many mortals have you told about this immortality?"

"Counting Tessa and you? Just two."

Richie sat back in his chair flabbergasted. "Telling her, I get, telling me…you seriously need your head examined!"

"You deserved an explanation and you deserved my trust."

But Richie was shaking his head like he just heard the stupidest claim. "I don't deserve either. I'm just a thief. I got nothing going for me and nobody has ever been foolish enough to put their trust in me."

Duncan's jaw clenched at Richie's poor self image and he bit out, "They have been the fools, not me."

Silence fell again, Richie's gaze pinned to Duncan's before the boy solemnly vowed, "I won't ever tell a soul, you got my word on it. Your secret will die with me. And once I work off the cost of the window, I won't show my face around here again. You'll be done with me."

It took Duncan a half a second to grasp what the boy was saying and why he was saying it. "I thought you were smart?" Duncan growled, anger flaring for the first time in their conversation. Reading the confusion and hurt in Richie's expression, he quickly explained, "I'm not looking forward to getting _rid_ of you, I'm looking _forward_ to spending some _time_ with you. There aren't many people I can relax around and truly be myself."

It wasn't something anyone had wanted from Richie before, his company. Didn't know why this man who he had robbed was breaking all the rules and trusting him …until he remembered their earlier conversation "Second chances?" he guessed.

Duncan smiled, proud the lad was getting where all this was heading and relieved he wasn't running for the door. "Yeah ,second chances, yours and mine. Together we might not screw it up. You give up your life of crime for at least the time being you're working for us and I'll try to be someone fun to hang around with."

Richie couldn't hold back a smile, sallied back, "That sounds doable…just don't pull your sword on me unless I'm really outta hand."

Duncan's smile was beaming. "Terms sound fair enough. Shake on it?" Putting out his hand, he felt himself holding his breath until Richie shook his hand, until he knew he wasn't losing the kid before he'd even gotten a chance to get to know him. "Alright, now I guess we've procrastinated enough. The lady of the shop's bound to try and dock our pay if we're not out there working in five minutes."

"Absolutely. We French are very harsh and demanding of our servants," Tessa teased, already couldn't wait to call her parents and tell them about the new addition to their family.

"You have no idea," Duncan mock whispered aside to Richie.

At Duncan's antics, Richie laughed, felt like it had been ages since there was something to laugh about. Longer still since he had been welcomed into someone home, had never been in someone's trust before. It was all firsts for him. First immortal he'd stumbled across, well that he knew about, first time he'd seen someone resurrected, first time he'd been given a second change. And for the first time he thought that tomorrow just might be a good day. And the day after that and the day after that, they all had the potential now to be good days. Guess that's what second chances were all about: hope.

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Till we meet again

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I send out prayers for the Light of Hope to reach anyone hurting and feeling alone. To know that tomorrow is another day for good things to come your way.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation," – Psalms 27:1

Cheryl W.


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